Can't Pick Your Family
by emif
Summary: A young Mister Trapper once invited a young Mister Specs to meet his parents. Mild slash.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Static. Static belongs to Mr. Dwayne McDuffie, Milestone, DC and WB. I just try to keep it alive alittle. 

**A/N:** I will warn you ahead of time. I don't speak fluent Spanish. I hope this isn't bad but I had to add some for the story to be vaguely realistic. Also I use the term "novio" a lot. Basically it means boyfriend. Amigo also means "friend" or "boyfriend" but novio is only used romantically.

Another Specs and Trapper fanfic.

**Can't Pick Your Family**

Trapper stood rocking his lunch tray back and forth as he examined the nutrition chart in the Vanmoor cafeteria. Groaning he looked over to the lunch line then back to the chart. He was actually avoiding the hassle of monitoring everything he ate. The limiting of any substance was certainly a chore. However, the substance he was not allowed was far easier to come by than most barred goods. He continued to stand considering his options, it was then that another skinny fourteen year old came up behind him. Vastly paler than Trapper and brandishing a pair of full moon glasses, the boy nudged him in the back with his tray. "You should go get something." The other boy was Trapper's roommate and current 'engagement' as he put it. Actually it had been a joint effort deciding what they were as a pair. The idea of using the common term, boyfriend, of their other 'charming colleagues.'

Trapper moaned and walked over to the line. He and his roommate were both live-in students. Vanmoor was the only optional boarding school in Dakota. It was a technical school, things like English and history had to be learned by other means. One of the main reasons, it was an optional boarding school. "You nag worse than my mother, Mister Specs."

His roommate adjusted his glasses and shot him a nasty look similar to those he gave lesser life forms. Mister Specs had notoriously bad relations with his mother. "Well we only have a half hour and you have to eat lunch. I swear, if I didn't watch you . . . "

Trapper interrupted. "Then I'd be dead because I'm completely incompetent. Thank you Mister Specs for that uplifting lecture."

Specs growled to himself. "I swear, you are the most immature little . . . are you even listening, Mister Trapper?"

Trapper was staring at a cup of pudding on the line and sighed. "The sad thing is that's only seven grams more than I'm allowed to have."

Specs snorted and shoved the other boy past the forbidden fruit known commonly as pudding. "You should try to have some self discipline. You know, Perkins isn't going to let up on us and that laser isn't going to finish itself."

Trapper groaned as he sat down across from his roommate in the cafeteria. "He wants it done before break then?"

Specs rolled his eyes. "Yes. You didn't guess that."

Trapper was picking at his food with his fork. "What about the grunt?"

"We are the grunts."

"The other one."

Specs had removed and was cleaning his glasses. "He left early for Chanukah. He left what he has done in a bag outside of our dorm. You didn't notice?"

"With our reputation, I don't touch anything left outside of our dorm."

Specs sighed and slid his glasses back on.

Winter break was only a few days off. They had been assigned to build a laser sensitive to cardiovascular signals that were within an assigned range. Now Messrs. Specs and Trapper were geniuses. This was a documented fact, their combined IQs were estimated around 500 to 700 on the regular gauge. It would normally be impossible for them to ignore how incredibly suspicious that was.

Normally that is except for one thing, Perkins. Their supervisor was probably among one of the worst at Vanmoor, a self-righteous, overbearing upperclassman Perkins who enjoyed springing assignments on his charges. He ran the boys ragged for his pure enjoyment and for the sole reason that he didn't like them. Perkins was the type who hung around for the entire class period making it impossible to work, critiqued how you sat and stole your glasses.

However, his latest ploy was announcing that he was leaving early and that the laser was due tomorrow. So Mister Specs and Mister Trapper were left with the impossible task of finishing it all in one night. Specs was left to the programming as Trapper worked on the general construction. Specs groaned to himself as he looked over his binary. After a while, 0's and 1's began to all look the same. Trapper peered over his shoulder holding the half built motor in one hand. "We're going to need an override command in the AI."

Specs groaned. "He didn't say we did."

"He will though. Besides with the lenses we're using, they'll need the machine to be smarter than the people using it." Trapper paused idly. "Especially with the barbarian hoards around here." Trapper said snarklily as he slouched back onto the lower bunk and began sautering the motor to the small device that generates the laser.

It was nearly two in the morning before their assignment was done. Specs was copying his coding. He was always cautious about his codes. Once Perkins had gotten into an argument with him, broken his disc and given him a failing grade. So, he had a system now involving creating a disc for Perkins, a disc for the principal, a disc for him, a disc for Trapper and one that he locked in a safe under his desk. Needlesstosay, the whole ordeal had shaken him into an intense paranoia. Specs finished his coding and copy ritual and turned around from the desk.

Trapper was crawled up in the lower of the two bunks which happened to belong to Specs. This whole arrangement had actually come from Specs's inability to remember certain things when drowsy. He had originally had the top bunk but had fallen out a number of times because he had completely forgotten that he wasn't closer to the ground. Trapper had agreed to switch for fear of his roommate sustaining permanent brain damage. Anyway if that hadn't been the case, he'd be happy to switch for the night but it was late, he was cranky and not in any mood to climb up, fall out the next morning then face Perkins with a migraine.

"Trapper." He said and shoved his drowsy roommate.

Trapper groaned and crawled up tighter. He was wrapped tightly in Specs's blanket and burrowed his head into the space where the wall and sheeted mattress met.

"I'm not sleeping in the top bunk. You know, I'll fall out." Trapper didn't seem to be listening. The only reply that he could see was that Trapper pull one foot under the blanket. Specs sighed. He knew what kind of a sleepy Mister Trapper was: quite heavy. He'd be dead asleep until morning. He removed his glasses, folded him carefully and put his glasses on the small table next to his bed. He pulled off his shirt and crawled in with his stubborn dormmate. He pulled, more or less wrestled, some of the blanket away from the other boy and tried to get some sleep.

Trapper groaned at the loss of his blanket and turned his head slightly to see what exactly was going on. Mister Specs was crawled up facing away from the wall. Trapper groaned and hooked his foot around Specs's trying to pull him closer.

Specs rolled over to see the other boy was actually awake. He sighed and placed an arm around the other boy's shoulder. "If Perkins is in a bad mood, he'll fail us anyway."

"We knew that all ready." Trapper said drowsily and took the opportunity to steal the rest of the pillow.

"Oh look, the grunts actually managed to finish it on schedule." Perkins said condescendingly as he smirked at the pair. Perkins was at the very least a head taller than the two boys. He was thinner than most his age with broad framed rectangular glasses. "I'm so glad you two put your head together for once."

Specs snarled to himself. He was an easily hurt boy to be completely honest. Trapper shot him a look. Specs and Trapper looked at each other for a moment then sighed as Perkins continued to look over the laser. "Well, what did we get on it?" Trapper asked trying to hold back his irritation. They had only gotten four hours of sleep that night and he wasn't really in the mood for a snotty teacher to tell him that he was an idiot.

"Oh..." Perkins smirked at the tone of Trapper's voice. He loved getting under people's skin and he was very good at it. "I see, Mousetrap's a little impatient today."

"...Trapper..."

"Anyway, I'd love to stick around and spend all day and my favorite students: Trekker and Speckles but I have to go. You got a 90." And with that, Perkins left the lab.

Specs adjusted his glasses irritably and looked at Trapper. "Is it really that hard to remember our names?"

With Perkins off on his holiday early, Specs and Trapper were left in the lab for three more days alone. If they hadn't been well, themselves, other students would probably have popped in to ask for some help, to chat or even to just get away from their own labs. Unfortunately, they were themselves and being Alva's personal favorites and quite rude to everyone but each other. So, they were left alone to their own devices. That was the way they liked it. "What are you going to do next week?"

Specs raised his head. "Huh?" He had just been trying to get some sleep with his head down on one of the tables.

"Next week for vacation. What are you doing?"

Specs groaned. "Probably get into a fight with my mother, get sent to my grandmother's and have to play nice all week."

"That sounds... great." Trapper said balancing on one leg of the chair. "How does meeting my family sound instead?"

"Why?" Specs had never actually thought about Trapper's family and absolutely never thought he'd meet them. Meeting your boyfriend's parents he assumed was something that only happened in some type of B movie that would somehow quickly turn to porn. That aside, he also assumed that everyone at Vanmoor had parents as oddly uncomfortable around their brilliant children as his were.

Trapper sighed. "My mom wants to meet you."

Specs's face seemed to hang a little limp at the whole idea of it actually being his mother's idea. He couldn't imagine Trapper's mother. He knew of her vaguely. She was a literary major and she named her son after an abstract concept from a satirical novel. That was about it. "She does?"

"Yeah..." Trapper said still balancing awkwardly on the small chair. "She's been pushing it a lot lately." Trapper paused when he noticed that Specs was staring. "She's pushy okay and has been asking about you. I wasn't going to lie to her. She'd find out anyway." Trapper paused. "She's really good at that."

Specs was still dumbfounded by the idea but he had to admit the idea of not seeing his family until spring was tempting. He was also curious as to what type of people would be so willing to meet him. "I guess it can't hurt to meet your mother."

"And father."

Specs looked up nervously. Meeting someone's mother was one thing but the idea of Trapper's father was something different entirely. "I'll take my chances with my mother."

Trapper groaned. "He's not that bad and he'll hardly be there. He'll probably be in Spain anyway. You'll probably see him once for at the most an hour." Trapper whined. "My mother is not going to let up until you come."

Specs sighed. "...fine. But he better not try to kill me."

Trapper grinned. "You'll see."

That evening before returning to their dorm, Trapper went to the main foyer and began picking through his loose change. He picked up the pay phone receiver and paid for the call. He had to admit to himself that his mother hadn't been nagging him that much at all. He really had lied for the most part. He just didn't want to go back home alone with his parents for the holidays. Trapper dialed in the number and stood twisting the cord in his index finger.

Specs was standing next to him making sure that he overheard the conversation. "So..."

"No one's answered ye... Oiga... uh, no creo..."

Specs fidgeted impatiently. "I thought you only spoke Spanish to get people to leave you alone?" Mister Trapper had only spoken Spanish when he first attended Vanmoor. It was an easy way to get the Neanderthals out of his face. Specs had been the only one to see past it. He still wasn't sure how.

Trapper groaned. "Mister Specs, be quiet...Lo siento, papa... Creo que si... Esta visible mama? Gracias." Trapper covered up the receiver still listening. "Yeah... I'm just a Monte for kicks and giggles."

Specs glared at him. "I'm sorry, you don't exactly look Iberian to me."

"Shows how much you know." Trapper said slouched over a little. He wasn't the type to stand up straight. "Hey. Yeah, he said he'd love to come."

Specs groaned at the statement. He would hardly 'love' to come.

"Everything's fine. You two should stop worrying. Its fine. Yeah, he can't wait to meet you." Trapper continued twisting the cord. "Yeah, we'll be there on Friday... I don't know, I think so. Yeah, you too. See you then." Trapper hung up.

"I see you're very close."

"You have no idea."

The last few days passed quickly without Perkins around. It was easy enough to fill the days. They worked on various projects, followed Alva like a pair of lost puppies and even managed to harass a young African American girl by the last name of Watkins. However, it came time for the two to leave to see Trapper's house. Both boys packed their things that they couldn't afford to leave at the school. They had to take a bus to the outskirts of Dakota. Mister Specs was not actually aware that Mister Trapper lived outside of the city until only a day earlier. The bus was crowded with students leaving school for break. They had to stand with their bags over their shoulders. "It usually clears out after a few stops." Trapper said feeling a little guilty.

Specs didn't mind really. It was much better actually being in the crowded bus than on the subway by yourself waiting to see someone you really didn't want to. He turned slightly to who was in the seats next to them. Three junior high school students were jammed into one seat cracking jokes to one another. A girl sat between two boys. One of the two boys was half falling out of the seat, he clung almost falling with every bump as the other boy, a blond with glasses, and the brunette girl tried to keep him in the seat.

However the young boy was only one large bump away from being completely tossed out of his seat and onto Specs. He landed somewhere around Specs knees completely knocking him over and leaving him half on top of the small boy. Not that he was terribly smaller than Mister Specs but it was enough that the young man let out a bit of a yip. Specs almost jumped at the prospects of being on top of another human being and scurried off nervously. "Watch what you're doing!" Trapper snapped defensively as he helped Specs up.

"Sorry." The blond said and all three smiled politely as they began to help their friend up. "You should sit in the middle, Virgil." The girl said as she helped the blond pull him up.

Trapper sighed and rolled his eyes. "Can't you grunts even figure out a bus seat?"

"We said we were sorry. It was an accident." The blond snapped.

"Typical." Trapper replied not even looking over at the students.

"Hey, its not his fault! He didn't do anything." The girl scolded.

"Cool it, they en't worth it." The other boy said and ruffled his dreadlocks.

Trapper snorted and turned away from the younger students. Specs adjusted his glasses and straightened his pants. Trapper looked over to Specs then away again. He was surprised that his companion hadn't joined in. He moved a little closer and stood casually. He was really hoping this entire ordeal wasn't going to turn into a fight and being in a position like having someone fall on you always put Specs on guard. Trapper sighed. He supposed that this had blown the chance of Specs being calm when he got there.

The bus slowly cleared out. It wasn't long before there were only a few people left. Specs and Trapper found seats near the back of the bus. No one was sitting there and Trapper felt that he should explain how they were going to actually get to his house. "Someone should pick us up. I'm guessing my dad's secretary or something."

Specs didn't really say anything. He just leaned up against the bus window. They were all ready on the outskirts of the city and seemed to have decided that playing it by ear was best. "Fine."

What was left of the trip was increasingly awkward. Trapper had actually almost fallen asleep and had been shoved away by Specs. It was actually decently hard to gauge Mister Specs's mood. Sometimes he was willing to be quite close in public; other times, he won't give you a hug in a broom cabinet. Obviously this was one of those times. So the remainder of the trip was an icy one to say the least. "This is the stop."

Specs looked up from the window drowsily and followed Trapper out onto the bus stop. Specs had never been in his area of the city. If you could call it that. The bus stop was actually passed the outskirts of the city and in what seemed to be the beginning of the countryside. Trapper leaned on the bus stop sign as Specs just surveyed the layout. There was a road and it did lead back to the city well in one direction anyway. The other way just seemed to stretch into fields and possibly wooded area if you continued further.

Trapper played idly with his ponytail. He had to admit he was a horrible liar like this. He really was probably as terrified as Specs about this whole engagement. "She may or may not speak English. My dad hires a lot of Mexicans. Because... h-he ... speaks Spanish." He said with a nervous stutter.

Specs look over at Trapper out of the corner of his eye. "So he is home."

Trapper groaned. "Here's the thing..."

Specs hated that saying and Trapper knew it because it always was accompanied by something completely ridiculous but sadly true.

"My father works in Spain. He'll be gone for months on end but then he'll suddenly pop in for no real reason."

"What!?!"

"Sometimes he stays for months. Sometimes he's only in the country for an hour. It all depends on how he's feeling or something like that."

"I have absolutely no idea how you begin to reply to that." Specs said with an absolute look of confusion. "That is undoubtably the weirdest thing you've ever told me."

"You'll get used to it." Trapper said with a sigh. "Oh and one more thing..."

"Please tell me he speaks English."

"Yes... no... kinda... no... kinda." Trapper said with a bit of a nervous twitch.

"You are aware that 'hola', 'adias', 'si' and 'amigo' if that last one is a real word is my Spanish vocabulary."

"I should have thought about that." Trapper said nervously. "I really didn't think he'd be home and he -can- speak English for the most part."

"Perfect."

It was only about ten minutes of standing awkwardly after the conversation before someone came driving done the road. Trapper was fully expecting one of the half dozen Latino employees of his father's to be in the car. He originally hired them as translators in the Americas and to keep Trapper's Spanish at a moderate level. He had a kind of pseudo-close relationship with his father. He wasn't around much but he assumed that one of his greatest parental fears was to come home and be unable to properly understand his only child. However inside the car was a pale freckled woman with strawberry blond hair. She was wearing a long sleeved almost ruffled shirt and a long skirt. Trapper almost collapsed right there. "Hi du..."

"Hi mom." He interrupted.

Specs took that as a cue and began crawling into the back on the car.

"I didn't think you drove." Trapper said nervously with his head through the car window.

"Are you invited a lecture?"

"No." He said and slid into the car next to Specs.

"So you must be Trapper's friend."

"Yeah..."

And so it starts. "Oh, I've heard so much from my little..."

"Mother."

"Honey, I don't see why you're so embarrassed. duprass is a perfectly fine name. Now, Matthew wasn't it?"

"I told you to call him Specs." Trapper said with a tone that sounded like he was getting a migraine.

The woman smiled to herself. "I think its just adorable that you two have made up names for yourselves."

Trapper looked as though he truly wanted nothing more than to slam his head in the car door. "Mother..."

She giggled again. "I just think its very... creative of you, duprass."

Trapper and Specs both recoiled at the statement. Creative to them was really more of an insult, something you tell someone if what they did had lacked any practical merit.

She noticed the two boys discomfort and chimed in. "Now, now. I changed my name when I was a little bit older than you were. I refused to answer to anything but Lichen for three years."

"Like the arctic moss..." Specs said almost in a state of shock.

"That wasn't the point." She said briskly. "The point was more of a statement. I was trying to defy my parents' lifestyle."

"By renaming yourself a moss."

"Dear, you call yourself Trapper." She said frankly. "The name isn't really isn't that important. Besides I was an avid Green Party member at the time. It was more the times. Half of my commune deemed themselves after plants."

Specs squirmed uncomfortably at that prospect. Trapper groaned to himself and tried to change the subject. "Did Alberto leave?"

The woman sighed. "No, your _father_ hasn't left." She paused nervously. "Now Matthew... how do I explain this? Don't... answer... the phone."

Trapper groaned loudly as his mother began to explain something that by all normal standards didn't make any sense. "Mother... can't..."

"Mister Monte is work dodging. Now... if anyone calls it will most likely be duprass's grandfather. Don't answer it and everything will be fine."

Specs looked over at Trapper cautiously. The entire mood of the car was significantly less cheerful after the topic of Trapper's father had come up. Trapper's mother didn't even try to make polite small talk at that point. She seemed to have her mind on something else. It only took another five minutes to arrive at the house. Specs looked at it a little suspiciously. The house was quite far out from Dakota in a wooded area. There was a clearing in the front of the house littered with some type feeders. There were also what Specs thought were birdhouses but oddly had no holes on the front board. The rest of the property just seemed to be uncut or managed woodland and even, the road that they had come from was not paved. Specs wasn't at all used to it, he had spent his entire life in the city. The entire idea of someone living out in untouched woodland without fences or roads seemed absurd. He could only imagine the closest place one could get a motor or an basic part would be.

Trapper's mother turned to Specs who was still surveying his surroundings. "You'll like it if the quiet doesn't get to you." She said and tried to coax him away from the car.

Specs jerked away. "I'll go inside." He said and walked away from her to the house.

Trapper shot her a look.

"Its fine, dupei."

Trapper groaned and followed Specs into the house.

The first thing that anyone would notice upon entering the house were the books. There were books everywhere. They were on the floor, tables, furniture and everywhere else that had any room for them. Almost instantly though, Trapper's mother was running over and changing their position. "I didn't clean up early. I really should have moved these into my office."

Trapper just walked passed the books. He was hoping that he could get Mister Specs and himself to his room in the shortest amount of time. He knew that if he actually got Mister Specs to the room he would be staying in. He still wasn't entirely sure where that was but he assumed his parents would ease up at that point. However, luck was not on Mister Trapper's side today.

"Mi hijo!" Before Mister Trapper could do anything, he was being violently embraced by a tall handsome blond. "Tu eres morada!"

Specs took a step back. He had been following behind quite closely at the time but a grown man jumping out of nowhere and hugging your only link to a new place while yelling in a strange language was enough to make anyone jumpy.

The man turned to Specs still embracing Trapper tightly around his torso. "Tu amigo?"

"Si." Trapper said trying very hard to breath.

The man instantly dropped Trapper and walked over to Specs smiling politely. He was a tall man, taller than Perkins. He had skin a shade darker than Trapper and a shade lighter blond hair. He was wearing a rather fitted button up shirt and had a way in which he stood that was anything but Trapper's slouch. "Hol... hello. I have heard... uh, so much of you." He said choppy but confident. He then embraced poor Mister Specs and kissed his cheek.

Trapper gave a look as if he were about to have a stroke which seemed to mirror the displeased shock of Specs. Trapper had not anticipated his father to be so flamboyantly European. Alberto seemed completely unaware of the two boys' complete and utter distress until Mister Specs let out a noise much like an injured rabbit.

"Eh... what is wrong?" He said looking from Trapper to Specs then back to his son.

"Dear, what did you do?" Trapper's mother had just walked over from the entrance of the house.

"He kissed him!" Trapper said angrily. "I thought..." He stopped with a groan of embarrassment and began rubbing his forehead.

Alberto looked a bit confused by the whole situation. However, it wasn't in his nature to sit by. "Now... now... just, calm." He smiled to his son and patted Specs on the back briskly. "You'll be fine. Not used to Spanish...uh, hello, no?"

Specs shook his head still trying to get his bearings. This certainly was not the welcome he had expected. He was more prepared to duck for cover.

"Has my grandfather called?" Trapper asked desperately trying to change the subject.

"What?" Alberto said with an arm still around Specs's shoulder.

"My grandfather! Abuelo!"

Alberto snorted. "Forget abuelo. He is not going run my life." At this point Specs had regained enough composure to understand what Trapper meant by him not being able and being able to speak English. "Ninguna siesta. El esta tirano!"

"You left because of THAT!" Trapper snarled at his father.

"¡Anda anda! El esta tirano! Yo no..."

"Esta tio loco?!"

Beyond that it was really an undecipherable haze of Spanish, English and on Mister Trapper's behalf a little angry Spanglish. Both were speaking at exactly the same time trying to drown the other out. Specs would have retreated but it seemed as though Alberto was using him as some type of hostage. He had an ever tightening hand on his shoulder as he spat something or other at his son.

"¡Basta!" he yelled quickly and turned away from his son. "Now... no more from you!"

Trapper seethed a little. He would gladly have continued to argue despite his father's wishes with a look over to a now thoroughly uncomfortable Mister Specs he decided it wasn't a battle worth fighting. He'd deal with Alberto later.

"Now...! So his is the... the... novio."

Trapper blushed fiercely. Specs only assumed that 'novio' meant something along the lines of sex bunny. He almost blushed himself at the idea. "Not the best choice of words." His mother chimed in.

Alberto looked over at her surprised. He thought 'novio' was appropriate. It was classical for someone in this type of relation. He really was hoping they were actually dating at this point. Imagine kissing a random friend of your son's, he couldn't imagine that embarrassment. "Friend? Or -friend-?"

Specs understood that. He understood that perfectly. Trapper looked mortified as his mother just laughed. "They know?!" Alberto got that and bursted into a hardy laugh with his wife and his confident stance returned. "I thought you... Mister Trapper!?!"

"Eh? We need to teach... your... uh, Specs Espaniol." He said with a firm grip around Specs's shoulder. He hadn't let go of the boy since he'd kissed him. Mister Specs was just thoroughly confused. He assumed first of all that his father would be unaware of their relational status and if by some twist of fate he were that he wouldn't want to touch him at all. This would have been all well and good with Mister Specs. He hadn't come from a huggy lot after all. "Eh, Senor Specs?"

Specs recoiled a little with the older man quite close to his face. Trapper at that point intervened and pried his father's arm off of his engagement. "He doesn't need to learn Spanish."

"You don't want me to know of your talking?" His father said with a very mischievous look on his face.

Trapper snarled at him and pulled Specs away from his father. "We're going to my room." He said quickly and took off. Alberto stood dumbfounded and looked to his wife confused. "What did he tell?"

Specs and Trapper spent almost three days completely out of the sight of his parents. Specs had to admit he enjoyed the time with only Trapper and of course, a room for their inventions. It was almost impossible for Specs to work on them at home. His mother always broken them, purposely. She had some idea that if she destroyed everything he made, he'd 'turn normal' as she tastefully put it. Trapper's room was not spacious. It was larger than the dorm but still small. It was on the second floor on the far westside of the house. The entire room was cluttered and messy the day he had arrived. Trapper was a horrible slob. But within less than a day, Specs had completely cleaned and organized out of frustration. He just couldn't work in those conditions. Trapper was working on a levitation beam on his bed as Specs sat at the small desk. Specs looked over at the calendar then to Trapper. "Is it Christmas?"

"I don't know. I guess."

Specs turned back a little confused. Then he turned back to Trapper again. "Um... Mister Trapper would you care to explain?"

"Why certainly Mister Specs. My mother deserted what she likes to call 'modern theology' in the mid 70s and now practices what she likes to call 'spirituality'.She's Jainist I think. And my father is just plain not involved in Christmas." Trapper continued to fidget with his machinery. "If we had been here, five days earlier we would have been forced to observe Yule. That's why they sent me that weird hat. You're atheist anyway, Mister Specs."

This entire concept intrigued Mister Specs. A place without being forced to go to church. It was almost to nice in a secular kind of way. "Mister Trapper, your mother wasn't serious about the commune was she?"

Trapper snorted. "Yes, unfortunately. She lived in a commune fifty some miles north of Houghton for almost five years. I can't believe we're related."

Specs chuckled. "So she is a real, living hippie? You're the son of a hippie. That explains the name. Better than Moonbeam Starlight I suppose."

"Mister Specs..."

"Or Singing Pond. Though the lower case."

"She's not as bad as my father. He truly embarrassed you Mister Specs."

Specs adjusted his glasses as he thought. "It wasn't really as barbaric as all that, Mister Trapper. He was overzealous but not disrespectful." Specs really was surprised he had said it. For some reason he liked the man.

"Are you serious, Mister Specs?"

"Yes, Mister Trapper. I admit his English is infantile but he isn't anything like I was expecting. Especially under the conditions of him knowing our situation." Specs cleared his throat. "He was perfectly friendly."

Trapper groaned in disapprove but didn't say anything. Specs assumed he had won at that point.

The two were together for the most part tagging along like two young sibling animals. However occasionally Mister Trapper would take a nap and Specs would be left to his own devices. Generally he didn't leave Trapper's proximity, he didn't like to really. He'd usually read or work on something as he slept. However, it was a boring way to burn the two or so hours that his lethargic comrade seemed to remain unconscious. Specs got up from the small swivel chair by the desk of Trapper's room and walked out of the room. The house was relatively quiet. The only sound actually in the house was the sound of a Spanish satellite radio program from down the hall. He walked down the stairs quietly and noticed that the phones had been unplugged. He chuckled to himself. They were awfully direct about how they felt. He couldn't imagine his mother doing that; even if, she didn't want to hear from anyone. He continued outside quietly and looked around. He hadn't been out in the yard since he had arrived. He looked up and down yard. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed half of the things in the yard. It was littered and odd looking structures made of what looked like oxidized copper. "So you finally came out, Matthew."

Specs turned around quickly. Trapper's mother was sitting outside on the stoop of the house with a ballpoint pen and a stapled stack of papers. He stepped back a little and straightened himself. "Its Specs. I thought Trapper told you that."

She turned away from her papers. She was wearing a pair of rather old reading glasses. "Alright then, I see Mister Specs has finally come out."

"Why'd you invite me anyway?" It was really a rhetorical question. He was lecturing the woman. "I assume from the evidence that you did indeed knew about my relations with Mister Trapper that you were planning on performing some kind of survey of me. Well I hate to inform you that you have very little influence on my or Mister Trapper's decisions."

She looked at him a little shocked. She certainly was not expecting something so bold. Now if she were her mother, she would have told him off, barred her son from seeing him and told her husband. If she were her father, she would have smacked the boy. Finally if she were her husband, she would have been incredibly indignant or find it hilarious that such a small boy was so 'spunky'. The fact of the matter was that she wasn't any of those people though and yelling at the boy for being loudmouth wasn't good karma. "Am I supposed to answer that?"

Specs glared defensively. "It depends on how right I am. I assume you aren't pleased with the situation."

"I have to say I'm not displeased. You were a perfect gentleman before now. You handled Alberto better than duprass and he sees him more than you." She paused for a moment. "You're more like my son than I thought you would be. Quieter but a lot like him. He doesn't tell me much about you though."

Specs cocked his head a little. He didn't want to fall into some lovely trap. He didn't want to tell her something that he wouldn't normally. He didn't want to be open with her. She was a perfect stranger and mother after all, he didn't know many good mothers. "I'm not telling you anything."

"I didn't ask, dear." She said as she began scratching things down with her ballpoint pen.

He was a little taken aback by the endearment. He barely knew the woman why would she be acting so nice to him. He was supposed to be the evil boyfriend, parish the word, after all. She wasn't supposed to like him. She was supposed outright hate him. Completely disgusted and he was supposed to have to defend himself. He had heard his own mother whine about this type of thing. About how its all in seduction without childbearing and yet she seemed perfectly fine just sitting on the stoop of her house as her son and his boyfriend did whatever they wanted in his room. He was a genius but that didn't make sense. "What are you doing? Writing... poetry?" He cringed at the thought of it.

She chuckled to herself. "Editing this draft."

"Of poetry?" He cringed again. Please let her say no.

"No. It's a novel. I have to admit I'm having some trouble with it though. I like the idea but its rough and most of it just doesn't seem right."

Specs snorted.

"Not a reader, I see."

"I don't like fiction."

"Fiction is as much about facts are reference, you know. It makes it easier to hide what you're saying. Making them aliens seems to work." She paused. "My name's Tara by the way. I don't think I've told."

Specs stood nervously behind the woman. "Do you or don't you hate me? I would like to know so I can gauge things."

That made her stop writing. She hadn't even moved since he had lectured her but that made her actually turned around completely and remove her glasses. She thought she had been fine with the boy. She thought she had been polite and had tried to embarrass her son as little as possible. Some was impossible to avoid. The two were geniuses with odd nicknames. Things embarrassed them. Things that wouldn't most. "I-we... did Alberto tell you something? His English is a little rocky but he doesn't hate you."

"I'm not asking about him. He seems to have some morbid fascination in the personal workings of myself and Mister Trapper but I don't think he genuine likes or dislikes the situation. I assume that he was playing it up a bit just for a rise or to scare me off. Whichever is irrelevant to me because it takes more than a fabricated overly flamboyant European to actually make me withdraw to the extent intended." He paused to look at a bird sitting on one of the copper structures. It was a Wilson warbler and this was a bit too far south for it. It just irritated him. "You on the other hand don't seem to be so poorly calculated. So do you hate me or not?"

She looked at him dumbfounded. This was not an uncommon feeling. She remembered coming into the kitchen one day to find that Trapper at two and a half years of age had taken apart the toast and made a shortwave radio. She had saved that radio. It was in her study next to a copy of "God Bless you Mr.Rosewater". Trapper tells her every break to throw it out. "Certainly not. I do admit I'm getting a little tired of your bitterness. It doesn't really make for a good work environment."

"I'm sure, you're so happy that you won't be having grandchildren. I'm sure this will be a wonderful thing to talk about with your parents. I'm sure they'll be thrilled about their grandson." Specs said bitterly.

She stood up. She had to admit she was angry. Very angry. More angry than she had been in years. " I know my son. I've known that my son isn't going to be having children since he was seven years old. I'm not going to hold it against my only son because I won't be a grandmother. I suggest that you learn not to pick fights more carefully."

Specs glared at her. Picking fights was he. "Seven. So that's seven years to plan something like this. Seven years to think up a lovely speech."

She had half a mind to tell her husband but it wasn't her nature. She took a breath and tried to think over how to talk to the boy. He was a boy after all. He was rude, outspoken and a little too cocky for his own good but a boy. A young man in a strange house with his boyfriend who apparently sleeps like a sloth most of the time and leaves him to fend off the possibly hostile parents. She sighed to herself. He was only defending himself. "Dear... no one is setting you up, I promise. Alberto is just like that, as flamboyant as it seems, and I have no intention of personally attacking you. Its bad karma for one."

Specs fidgeted. He somehow did want to believe her.

"Do your parents know where you are?"

"Vaguely. With a friend."

"Let me guess, they wouldn't understand."

"My mother couldn't. She's not really good with thinking."

"Imagine that."

"What?"

"I never let duprass meet my parents. I didn't want them to. They're not the types with auras right for him."

"Auras, huh? That's ridiculous."

"You're just like duprass." She said smiling. "He tells me to stop asking Confucius for the last word. Where is duprass anyway?"

"Upstairs, he's sleeping."

She looked at him with a somewhat distressed look. "When did he go to sleep?"

Specs's mind raced a little as she appeared nervous. What could she be getting at? Sleeping in the midday wasn't unusual for most teena... It hit him then. Specs had been pretty much thinking about himself and not being psychologically attacked for the whole of the time he was there. Trapper seemed to be lethargic most of the stay. It hadn't occurred to him. "Late this morning."

She seemed to be thinking the exact same thing as Specs. "Go tell Alberto to call a doctor." She said and ran inside.

Specs followed suit quickly and began rushing into the house toward the upstairs room that had the radio on. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed. Trapper had slept in that day gotten up worked on his beam then went back to sleep. He hadn't eaten all day. It was nearly three now. He couldn't believe he hadn't asked him once how he was feeling. He was a diabetic. They needed to eat. They needed to take their medicine. They needed to and he hadn't even noticed.

He bolted into the room. Alberto was leaning in close to the radio, saying something under his breath in Spanish, as it blared on about some type of sports event. Specs half hysterical at this point ran overand turned the radio off. Alberto's head shot up and looked over at Specs with utter surprise. "No futbol fan?"

Specs completely ignored the statement. Even if he was aware of what "football" was which he wasn't. It wasn't the time. "Youneedtocalladoctor,Trapperishypoglycemicand..." He stopped. Alberto was looking at him in complete confusion. He was talking too quickly. "You need to call a doctor."

"I... no, I don't compre..." Alberto didn't understand a word the boy was saying. Alright, think now. Your son is a genius. It had to have come from him too. He assumed. The boy looked upset. "What 's wrong?"

Specs was half over the edge with hysteria. He just wanted the man to understand one simply but incredibly crucial detail. "Trapper..."

"Trap-?"

Specs took a deep breath. Panicking never helped anything. The man didn't speak English as ridiculous as that was in this day in age. "duprass needs your help. Get the doctor." Specs said perfectly clearly.

"...Doctor?" Alberto said confused for a moment then rushed out of his chair and down the stairs. Specs ran after the man who was already down downstairs desperately trying to reconnect the phone. He quickly looked it over. He hadn't noticed exactly how much the phone had been disconnected. It was literally ripped off of the wall. He could see just surveying that several wires were severed and without a microscope and a very precise sautering gun. Alberto turned to him. "¡Despabílate!"

Specs looked at the man confused. That was neither 'hola', 'adias', 'si' or the rest which seemed to escape him in the hysteria. He had never forgotten something before. Mister Specs was not the type to forget, keep a long list and a long memory was a bit of a motto. Yet somehow he was turning up blank. "I don't know what you mean."

Alberto was slowly becoming as hysterical as Mister Specs. Both men were completely unable to translate the most basic idea to one another. Meanwhile, his son was in who knows what state. It was one of those moments in life that made you question your choices. He questioned how little he had practiced his English, how little he had been home and how little time he had spent with his son. Alberto kicked himself for not pushing those doctors more for that transplant. They said it probably wouldn't have worked but it could have right. He could have handled it and his son wouldn't have to. Alberto shook it off and turned to the boy. Specs was in what looked like a state of repressed hyperventilation. He had to pull himself together. He had once charmed the head of a terrorist baronship. He can tell a boy to help his novio. "Senor... go retrieve the box."

"What box?" Specs said with a half squeaky voice.

Alberto groaned. He knew what it was but the boy didn't. How to explain. He grabbed the boy by the arm and quickly dragged him over to a cupboard. Alberto tossed things out and onto the floor, lifesaving medical equipment before neatness and pulled out a box. Alberto opened the box and began preparing an injection.

Specs stood confused and scared out of his mind, two things that he hoped to never experience. He knew insulin wasn't going to help. He knew that because whenever Mister Trapper got into something he wasn't supposed to, he had to up his insulin to adjust his blood sugar. It wasn't going to work and obviously his father was an idiot. He had known that already but he was the type that was harmless and completely out of the way before. "Insulin doesn't work when he has low blood sugars!" Specs snapped defensively and got in front of the man. For once in his life he didn't know what to do but wasn't about to let some idiot make it worse.

Alberto had no idea what he was saying but whatever it was he didn't have time for it. He pushed the skinny teenager out of the way and made his way across the room. He thought that had been the end of it until something heavy on his leg sent him toppling over. His son's novio had grabbed him by the waist and shoved him over. "Tu loco chico..." He stopped half insult and tried to crawl up.

Mister Specs was having none of it. He clung to the man for dear life and didn't care if he called a faery princess in Spanish. He wasn't having anything else go wrong. Sure he had been selfish and had completely ignored the minor stress induced depression that Mister Trapper had obviously been waving in his face. But he wasn't going to have someone make it any worse. "I... told you... insulin isn't going to work."

Alberto was still trying to pry the boy off as he held fast. He had to get the injection. It really wasn't a matter of if. He had to explain it to the boy who was actually enjoyably spunky outside of the fact that he was possibly inadvertently killing his novio. Alberto, you're an even optimist. "Senor Specs... this is... glucagen, si?"

Specs stared at him for a moment. His panic was still blocking him from knowing with any certainty what that was but it wasn't insulin. Specs was not the type of person to trust anyone but himself with anything. He thought it was best that way being a genius but he honestly didn't know what to do. He had a choice. He could trust the man or he could continue to wrestle him away from Mister Trapper on the floor. "Yes."

Alberto was released from the grip of the overzealous boy and rushed over to main room of the house. His wife was frantically dialing on a small cellular phone trying to get a hold of a doctor. Specs was behind the man as he tapped the side of the injection. Specs looked over at his friend had been moved from his bedroom onto the couch in the main room. He couldn't help but feel his heart drop into his stomach. He had seen Trapper "low" before but definitely not like this. He was lying soaking wet with sweat and shaking mildly. Alberto pinched his son's arm and gave him the injection. "That's for now." he said nervously and ran a hand through Trapper's hair.

Trapper only spent a night in the hospital which was more than enough for Mister Specs. They would have sent him home sooner but they needed to observe how his sugars rose. He sat up in the hospital bed with an I-V in his arm. Specs was sitting on the opposite end. It was late almost four in the morning and Alberto and Tara were leaning together on a chair across the room fast asleep. Trapper sighed to himself. What a wonderful mess, he'd dragged Mister Specs into. He stretched out his foot under the blanket and rubbed his friend's back.

Specs looked behind without turning completely around. "You feeling alright, Mister Trapper?"

Trapper sighed. "I'm fine. This kind of thing happens." Trapper groaned to himself. He wasn't very reassuring. "Sorry for such a bad holiday..."

Specs sighed and turned around completely. "Mister Trapper, besides you almost dying," he said trying not to look him in the eyes. "It wasn't that bad a holiday."

"They have some redeeming qualities." Trapper said dryly. He had to admit he did love his parents despite the floods of embarrassment.

Specs looked over at the two. Tara's head rested around Alberto's collarbone was he sat squeezed into one chair with his wife. Both were still fast asleep. He hadn't trusted people the way he had trusted them only hours before. "Yeah.. they do, Mister Trapper. They do."

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Reviews are loved and thank you for reading. 


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